


Situational Irony

by Lintu



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blackmailing your boss who's also kinda your dad and therapist, Embarrassment, Found Family, Humor, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shower Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tags Are Hard, Vaginal Fingering, Watersports, its only porn bits for the first half though, knowing your coworker's sex lives too well, oh Ratchet is their dad, theres some really embarrassing situations so like fair warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintu/pseuds/Lintu
Summary: Fate, and arguably situational irony, had brought First Aid and Ambulon together, specifically so that in the long term Ratchet would never have another peaceful moment until his forced retirement.





	Situational Irony

**Author's Note:**

> I have not slept in over 24 hours. My goal with this fic at first was to write porn to help me sleep. Eventually I got overly invested in the idea of First Aid and Ambulon teaming up through the power of their combined messy relationship to drag Ratchet.
> 
> So if you're not into my usual Soft Watersports Lite™ content, just scroll past everything until you reach where they're on the Lost Light. You can read that bit as a one-off in its own, tbh.

It had been a horrible realization, If First Aid had been honest. He could remember the exact moment when it had come to him, hitting him as if he had ran straight into a wall.

It had been after a battle. Long medbay shift of patching up the crew, no real serious injuries thankfully, but it still took him and Ratchet forever to patch everyone up. Eventually, upon Ratchet's request, First Aid's gestalt came and took him from the medbay, bringing the struggling ambulance into their private wash rack back at the protectobots suite. 

The whole housing unit was set up similar to that of an earth college dorm. Enough bedrooms to house them all in pairs, minus First Aid who'd lucked out with his own room. Well, initially it had been Hot Spot's own room, but after the others had complained about Aid's erratic sleep-to-work ratio, their leader had switched to keep the peace.

The three bedrooms were all connected by one large spaced common area. Nothing fancy, a private dispenser for rations, some seating, a couch. Enough to make the space appear lived in. 

Finally, besides what was Aid's bedroom, was the washrack. Three cubicles of solvent showers parallel to three wastefluid cubicles. Those just happened to be lining up against what was Aid's room.

After being man handled in the shower, all 4 of his team mates taking turns scrubbing his plating and seams, First Aid was quickly ushered out to share one last cube before he'd planned to retire for the night. He'd felt limp, strut-less, needing to focus a little more than he'd like in order to continue fueling. It was a slow pace, his team having cleared multiple cubes in the time it took him to finish one. 

Blades was in the middle of some joke that said could care less about when he had finally found opputurnity to retire. Waving his empty cube quickly, Aid stood up with intention to return the cube to their sink, then off to bed.

"Hey, Aid," Groove called out, getting the medics attention. "Blades and I were wondering if you wanted to, uh, interface?"

"Yeah," Blades popped up out of his seat, coming over to First Aid's side. "You skipped out on our last night together. Which, is okay we know you're busy with work-"

"But we miss you," it was Hot Spot's turn to join in, taking the cube from out of Aid's hands. "We'd never force you to do something you didn't want to do, but sometimes I wonder if your spark pulls for ours as ours do your hours."

A soft silence filled the room, until Streetwise stomped off to his quarters when Aid didn't immediately answer. Giving eachother a knowing look, Hot Spot followed, leaving Groove and Blade's to each of Aid's sides.

"You're probably tired from working, so why don't you sleep."

"Yeah, there's no expiration date on our offer. Just, know we care about you."

The two walked Aid to his room, as if Aid didn't sleep about 30 feet away from their couch, only to give him one last wave before dipping into the washracks.

Lost in a sea of thoughts and conflictions, First Aid crawled into bed, unable to sleep with so much on his mind. It wasn't that he didn't want to interface with his team, he cared about them all deeply, not to mention being in a gestalt meant they'd need to merge sparks semi regularly at that. First Aid often found himself passing on their offers due to his own faulty(?) interface drive. Hitting arousal wasn't hard, in fact it was pretty easy when your partner knew exactly how you were feeling, but never being able to achieve overload was embarrassing, not to mention if left some of his teammates feeling insulted. 

It was just best not to interface, despite how easily he'd catch himself getting horny.

Like he was right now, listening in on Blades and Groove washing each other in the shower, releasing their pent up tensions from the earlier battle. Aid didn't need their gestalt bond to know they were fucking under that hot stream of solvent, his mind providing images of how cute Blade's rotors would look covered in suds. Sighing in frustration, Aid laid stomach down in his bed while his interface protocols pinged online, a message to open his valve panel across his HUD. He denied it, there was no point.

Rather quickly their coupling had finished and First Aid was thankful. Hoping to sleep off the now uncomfortable feeling in his lower stomach, Aid rolled back to having his back against the wall, hoping that by disabling his optics he'd catch recharge sooner. That is until a noise caught his audios. 

One of his mates had gone into one of the wastefluid cubicles, their spike most likely already been out from their recent coupling. Hearing a soft groan, Aid found himself swallowing a bit of jealousy, having assumed the mech was off for a round two despite just getting an overload. It just wasn't fair, how they all could achieve this 'normal' thing that Aid, well, just couldn't do.

But it wasn't the sound of transfluid hitting the basin that caught Aid's audios. No. Transfluid was thicker, came in spurts. No this was a heavy flow of waste fluid splashing into the bowl beneath his team mate.

The sound was, for lack of a better word, powerful. It felt as if it would never stop, that whoever was on the other side of the thin wall would be relieving themselves endlessly forever. Lubricants started to pool behind Aid's panel, something that's never happened before, and Aid continued listening in, feeling like a dirty voyeur. 

After another content sigh, the once powerful flow trickled down to a stream. Aid but his lip, hornier than ever, but also horrified at just how effected he was by listening to his team mate relieve himself. Hearing the final shakes of fluid catch into the basin and the mech start to make his way to the exit, Aid sprang up to his peers, hoping to poke his head out and catch just who it was. Groove or Blades.

Unaware just how sweaty and flushed Aid's face looked, mask long since discarded when he'd thought he'd been sleeping, Blades exited the wash racks, meeting Aid'a gaze. Worry filled the helo'a expression, coming closer.

"Aid? Aid you okay?" Concerned, Blades reached out to stroke the smaller's helm.

Swallowing thickly, Aid opened the door a little further, just enough that Blades would be able to see the lubricants beginning to run down his thighs. As soon as Blades looked down, then back up to Aid's optics, it was his turn to swallow thickly.

"Blades, an, I need--"

"A little help?"

"W-Would you mind?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

It had been the first, and the most mind blowing, overload of Aid's life. He tuned Blade's out while they interfaced, looping the captured audio feed from the waste basin in his audios. Over and over, the splash of initial contact, Blades little content sounds. Something about it drove him wild and there was no warning as Aid squirted abruptly around Blade's spike, optics burning momentarily white before darkening to an exhausted deep blue. It had set off a domino effect, Blades coming soon afterwards. 

While he'd been tired from his exciting night of fucking his team mates, Blades was quick on his feet to grab some cloths to clean Aid up, knowing there was no hope in cleaning off the berth for aid to have a dry place to sleep. 

It hardly mattered, Aid had exhaustedly taken he offer to sleep in Blade's bed for the night on the condition that the helo would carry him. 

Groove woke the next morning, Aid snuggled and cuddled as close as possible to a now trapped Blades who looked at the small bike for assistance. 

Nobody in the gestalt believed him, that Aid had finally taken an invitation to interface, let alive overload so explosively. Blades had to be lying, even if their sated EM fields spoke otherwise.

And soon it became a pattern. After long shifts in the medbay, Aid would actually return home to protectobot HQ on his own, without Ratchet rudely forcing him out of the medbay. He'd have dinner with his team mates, sometimes snuggle up to a few of them on the couch had a shift been particularly rough, and then he'd 'retire' to his room. Audio pressed to the wall he'd wait and listen, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone would come into the washracks to use the basins.

It was embarrassing that he soon could recognize each of his gestalt by their footsteps and the noises of their waste fluid being relieved. Streetwise was always fast, a strong current. Always felt like he'd been rushing, like he had better places to go or be. Which was probably true. Blades and groove both had a more natural pace, preferring to let their base programming take the lead. The difference between them was tank size; groove was smaller than blades and would make more trips, sometimes several a night depending on fuel consumption that day. He never moaned like Blades would, silent just like Streetwise had been.

Hot Spot was his favorite. Not just because of his large frame, with equally large waste tank, but because Hot Spot seemed to get off when he'd relieve himself. He didn't have a steady flow, it was always trickling, but Aid soon realized the other had been touching himself all the while. Something that truly drove himself and his arousal wild. 

None of the gestalt had pieced together Aid's new found kink. They'd all reasoned that because Aid was younger than them, perhaps he'd just need a late bloomer. It wasn't a completely wrong guess, but there's been more at play than just a late looming maturity. Either way, each of them now having the chance to interface and merge with Aid more regularly had boosted team morale. 

\---

For Ambulon, it had been less exciting of a realization. He'd never been a sexually charged mech, constantly frustrated with the unwanted passes his gestalts would make towards him. 

He'd come to the realization not too long after the combiner experiment. They'd all been connected, still trying to learn just how much to share with one another and how to keep things private.

Ambulon thought he'd known how to keep his interests private.

One day after a particularly long surgery, Ambulon had hastily exited the medbay to use one of the public wash racks. Covered in energon from the elbows down, many got out of his way without him even needing to ask. A quick rinse to his filthy plates was all he needed before he'd dipped into one of the basin cubicles. The door couldn't close fast enough behind him. 

His spike released from his housing and the anticipation mixed with the fear of getting caught bubbled deep in his gut, though not distracting enough to stop him from relieving himself. What hit him first wasn't the slash of fluid hitting into the bowl, but honestly it was the smell. Strong, acidic, hitting the sensors in his nose like he'd walked into a wall. 

It made his mouth water, his valve clench excitedly. His flow was slow, spike painfully erect, and there was little for Ambulon to do than just feel the sensation out. Stroking his spike had changed the pattern of the droplets hitting the basin below and that's all it took before he'd realized his valve cover was open. Teasing the lips of his valve with a free hand, Ambulon was now fully over the basin, doing his best to keep his pleasures grunting muffled and to a minimum. 

While then pressure in his gut and truly falling victim to his own desperate needs really got him hot and bothered, the thought of someone catching him was always what brought him to overload.

Until this time where he'd actually gotten caught. A heavy knock at the door made Ambulon jump out of his plates, hands flying off his intimate pieces, causing a sharp burst of waste fluid to miss the basin and run down his leg. Delightful.

"Hey, Ambulon." 

He knew that voice. Ambulon groaned internally, only to realize the mech behind the door could feel it too. Had he been broadcasting across their bond this whole time!?

"Ambulon, open up!"

A second voice. Great. As if Arm-or being here wasn't bad enough, now he had to deal with Swing as well. 

Grumpily, as if he hadn't been caught jerking off to the feeling of relieving himself, Ambulon peaked the door open just enough for them to see his golden optics.

"Go away."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can't broadcast like THAT across the bond and then tell us to leave."

"Yeah. You can't play hard to get like that."

"I can, I can absolutely tell you to leave."

Ambulon scowled, reaching to close the door in their faces when one of them had yanked it open. Arm mechs. God forbid it had been Kicker to pester him. 

"Look, Ambulon," Swing started, wedding his hand in the frame so Ambulon would be unable to close the door without crushing his hand. Something he'd been gambling that Ambulon wouldn't do, because if he did the medic would only have to fix it later. "It's just us two. We just, we thought you were playing coy."

"Coy!?"

"I mean, we realize that's not it now." Arm-or stated, pointing to the puddle of collected waste fluid at Ambulon's ankle. "But we did pick up your emotional broadcast in the bond. We just thought made you were too shy to ask to interface-"

"Or that maybe you wouldn't let us take you back in our quarters because there was no danger there. Getting caught could be your turn on, who'd know, right?"

Punching the bridge of his nose, only to fling his hand away with wide eyes at the realization it had been the hand he'd fingered his valve with so furiously a moment sooner, Ambulon gave in.

"Fine. Just this once. But you two keep a lid on it. No telling kicker, no telling anyone. This stays between us." 

And with a mutual nod and some ground work established, the three of them had arranged a frag buddy system in which all their needs were met. 

It was one of the few, if only, things he may had missed after he'd defected and joined the autobots. While having his freedom and a new life ahead of him was exciting, he'd still find himself missing the two mechs he'd ever lowered his emotional walls for.

\---

Delphi sucked. The work was boring, his boss was Pharma which, honestly, spoke volumes about life at the work place. And still, Aid found himself at his desk, ignoring his duties to instead trace a zoomed in picture of Springer's face with his desktop mouse.

"I'm not paying you to beat your meat to that green fool." 

Ah yes. Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

"Actually, Pharma, you aren't paying me at all. Autobot high command signs my paychecks. And they're peanuts. So forgive me for feeling unmotivated."

First Aid couldn't tell if the flick of Pharma's wings was that of amusement or annoyance. Either way, the jet's heels clicked as he approached. Unplugging Aid's monitor to get his full attention.

"I will be going off base tonight and I need to know that I can trust you and that idiot deception to not burn the place down."

"Hey, Ambulon works really hard."

"I know he does, unlike you. He lacks what you have in natural talent, forcing him to work twice as hard to be at your level. And here you are, squandering your talents by drooling on your desk."

Well. Nothing Pharma said wasn't a lie, even if it hadn't been nice.

"So being that Ambulon has about as much talent as you do in your pinky finger, and the emotional range of the snow that I pray one day will collapse our ceiling and kill me where I stand, I need to be able to trust that you will do as your told and keep the place in tact until I return. Do you understand?"

Bitterly glaring at Pharma as he plugged his monitor back in, Aid was in no position to want to cooperate.

"Bold of you to demote me to a nurse and then expect me to work the rank of Ambulon's position."

"Fine. Be that way. But if I come back and anything has happen, anything at all that is don't like, you can bet I'm writing you up for insubordination and forcing you to another one of Rung's sessions."

With a roll of his optics, thankful hidden behind his visor, First Aid silently nodded. He was not in the mood to deal with Pharma. 

Nor was he in the mood to deal with Ambulon either. 

Ambulon was a problem in itself. First Aid was still in denial for his absolutely-not-a-crush on his coworker. That he should be mad at the other for demoting him and taking a higher position he knew he deserved. And yet, any and all bitterness he could muster faded away as soon as he looked into those golden optics.

At first he convinced himself he just missed his gestalt. He missed their intimacy, being held and taking care of one another. That Ambulon was also from a combiner, so his coding was just responding to the fact Ambulon wasn't part of their unit and therefor couldn't respond back to any of its desperate calls for affection. 

But it was more than that. And First Aid knew it; even if he wasn't happy about it. This whole icy rock and his only potential suitors were Ambulon (a ex con and emotionally constipated), Pharma (who still wasn't over his Ex, Ratchet), and his own right hand.

Sending Ambulon a ping that he'd be heading to the washracks, should anyone decide to flatline within the next hour that's where he'd be found, Aid quietly slipped into one of the two cubicles, sitting up fully at the bench installed in the shower so that his pedes rested on it rather than the tile beneath him.

He needed a little meditation before he could focus on doing anything else, and no place was quieter than the communal wash racks.

That is, no place SHOULD be quieter. 

Aid looked at the closed door of his shower cubicle, hearing the wash rack entrance open and close, followed by the sound of one of the waste cubicles closing.

Oh no.

No. No, no, no. This wasn't happening.

The second that First Aid heard Ambulon's plating retract he knew that god hated him. That Primus himself sat somewhere up in the cosmos and wanted Aid, specifically, to die. 

Covering his face behind his hands, as if the mask, visor, and two sets of doors separating them hadn't been enough of a divider between the two, Aid listened with horrified fascination as Ambulon grunted.

Soft swearing under his breath masked the sound of the initial first few drops of waste fluid hitting the basin. But as soon as his flow had become more steadily, slow but splashing the sides with no pattern, that was the moment of which Aid's spark ran cold and his valve, simultaneously, sparked alive for the first time in literal years.

Ambulon was aroused. He was aroused and jerking off to his bodies needs. The same way Hot Spot had. It was unmistakable, the familiar pattern of noises and Ambulon's additive swearing cemented it.

Immediately Aid lowered his face mask and valve cover, occupying each set of lips with one of his hands. One fist to bite down on, unable to trust himself not to whimper as he cut straight to the chase and began scissoring his valve in earnest.

Had Pharma saw, he'd say it was the hardest he'd ever seen Aid work in his life.

At first Ambulon had just been stroking himself through the stream, the fluid hitting up and down the side of the basin before hitting the bottom where the drain was. It drove First Aid mad, how he could picture Ambulon hunched over, one hand braced against the wall while the other kept his spike aimed downwards, still palming it to firmness.

But then, then Aid had realized that something had changed. Ambulon's pedestal had skidded on the floor, another curse as he had almost lost his footing. Opting to remove his fingers from his valve, Aid did the dumbest thing of his life and lowered himself silently off the bench so that he could peak from the opening beneath his doorway to catch a glimpse at Ambulon's footing. 

Wide spread in a power stance, he'd also been fingering his valve while his palm teased the head of his spike. Unmistakable thin lines of waste and lubricants could be seen running down his legs, not enough to pool on the floor but enough for Aid to see them at his angle. 

Choosing to lie back flat to the floor, Aid continues to pinch and roll on his outer node, pressing his thighs together as he drank in the orchestra of noises Ambulon had made in desperation to get off.

It was the most emotion First Aid had ever seen Ambulon give. 

All good things came to an end, as Ambulon's stream had slowed before dribbling pathetically, another few cursed grunts before a jet of transfluid hit the rim of the basin. 

Trying to get up on his own two feet before Ambulon would exit and see him clearly spying on him, Aid slipped as he tried to get back up on the bench, causing the solvent head to come crashing down on his helm. Yelling loudly in pain, skittering to stand despite his legs feeling like jello from being robbed what was sure to have been the best orgasm of his life, Aid bumped into the button that turned on the solvent jets. Spraying hot solvent directly into his optics, he let go of the hose, the head now aimed towards the ceiling.

So much for being sneaky.

Heavy footsteps made Aid cringe, scrambling to get some sense of control back into his life, when Ambulon forced the door to the shower open, breaking the lock open. His emotions were unreadable, face full of embarrassment and anger until he caught sight of First Aid.

Tangled up in the solvent hose, one leg hooked up over the bench he'd once been perched on. Despite the fact he was covered in solvent spray it did little to conceal the lubricant on his thighs and hand, his other hand having a decently deep bite dent on it.

Aid had been caught.  
And now Ambulon knew.

They started at each other in mutual horror. Neither wanting, or knowing how to proceed.

"I thought I was alone." Ambulon coughed, unable to make eye contact. 

"I sent you a message that I was going to be in here." First Aid snapped defensively, pulling his one leg free from the hose, the other free from the bench. Ambulon had reached over and turned off the spray, unsure if he should help Aid off the ground. Something seemed dirty about using the hand you were just fingering your valve with to hoist up your coworker, who's hand was also in their own valve simultaneous to your own finger-in-valve activities. 

Wait.

Aid was fingering himself. While Ambulon had been. 

Now Ambulon wasn't the brightest. He wasn't great at math, or social situations, definitely not tact. In fact, a smaller list would be things he WAS good at rather than wasn't good at.

But something started turning the cogs in his mind and before he could stop himself--

"You were jerking of to me!?" He'd pointed at himself, fingers still covered in now drying lubricants, as if there were anyone else in the room that Aid could have been spying on.

Unable to speak, or meet Ambulon's gaze, Aid nodded.

"Me!? Not Springer, not Pharma, but me!?"

"What does Springer have to do with this?" Well now THAT got Aid's attention, helm snapping up to look at Ambulon.

"I-I don't know! I thought you liked him!"

"I mean, yeah, I do, but it's not like he's real. I mean. He's is very much real, I have his chart and oral samples to prove that, but he's not real real."

"You have his what--"

"Ambulon which pink elephant in the room are we going to discuss: my questionable collection of Springer memorabilia or the fact you caught me pleasuring myself to you using the waste basin. I only have enough emotional capacity for one of these things."

"While i don't consider having Springers spit--"

"ORAL SAMPLES."

"Whatever! Wait- repeat that again."

"Oral--"

"No the part about me."

"Ambulon please don't make me repeat myself." 

First Aid gave Ambulon the most exhausted look of his life, accepting Ambulon's hand when he had offered to help pull the other medic off the floor. In silent union they both sat side by side on the shower bench, both looking at their own pedes.

Until Ambulon nudged one Aid's knee with that of his own.

"This is just. Really weird."

Aid cringed. "L-look I'm sorry, I'll never do this again, please let's drop it--"

"You know I had an arrangement with my gestalt sorta similar to this." Ambulon frowned into his lap. "They caught me exactly like this, here I thought I'd gotten sneaky."

Another long silence filled between them, making Ambulon anxious that he'd over shared.

"My bed room with my gestalt mates was next to our wash racks. It was hard not to listen in every time one of them would go in there." Aid fiddled with his fingers in his lap, realizing that he'd never closed his valve cover. Quick glance sideways showed Ambulon had forgotten to do the same, making him feel a little less naked and exposed. "I used to pick them off one by one to interface afterwards. None of them knew."

"All of mine knew."

They laughed, and laughed, finally looking at one another.

"So now what?" Ambulon coughed, turning his gaze back into his lap. "What does this mean?"

First Aid clicked his vocalizer, trying to pretend to ponder in thought rather than doing what he wanted, which would be to tackle the other off the bench and kiss him desperately like he's fantasized so many times before. 

"Well, I guess you gotta decide what do you want this to be."

"Why does it have to be my decision!?"

"Because I already know my answer, but I don't want that to sway you either way. You have to be honest about this."

Nodding slowly, Ambulon opened and closed his hands, clenching nervously.

"I guess, depending on your answer, maybe instead of spying on me, we could sometime try to," he paused, choosing his words carefully. "We could arrange to--"

"Are you asking me to be your fuck buddy?" 

"No, I'm, I'm trying to ask if you'd want to make this more of a mutual shared experience--"

"Ambulon, I know you probably haven't been wined and dinned much in your life, but buy me a drink first before you ask me to frag."

"Didn't stop you from not buying me a drink before listening in on me."

"Touché."

\---

They'd spent months and months working through their emotions to reach a place of comfort between them. Something Pharma truly despised. Bitter and pissed off that these two could find something of value in this icy hell that was Delphi, Pharma had set out to truly make their lives as difficult as possible. 

Ironically enough, it brought them closer. For while Pharma was often a brilliant genius, there was one thing even he underestimated. That underestimation was that while First Aid and Ambulon had found man small interests they could bond through together, none would ever compare to the cement of a mutual dislike of someone they both knew.

Neither of them hated Pharma. Both of them hated how Pharma had been treating them. And that, alone, helped whatever seedlings of a relationship blossom into a bountiful garden. One they'd never had obtained through listening to the same radio stations or starting a two-man book club. 

So it was honestly a real surprise when both of them had come together on the Lost Light and multiple crew members mistook them just as friends. Neither Aid nor Ambulon corrected anyone, neither feeling they really had to correct anyone, but it still baffled them how only Ratchet was aware they were an item.

Slowly they adjusted to the new medbay. Neither of them really knew what to anticipate about working along side Ratchet, but they'd worked with Pharma. Speaking honestly, nothing would hold a candle to that work experience. 

After a month or so, it had become clear to everyone that Ratchet had in fact possessed a heart, as he'd adopted the two misfit medics as his children. Which was mostly great, minus Ratchet's borderline racist comments about forged mechs being superior medics to cold constructed builds. Ambulon never let it get to him, or if it did he kept it well hidden. Aid was usually the one to get annoyed, make a mockery of Ratchet while his back would be turned, and score himself some after shift cleaning duty. 

They'd managed to add Ratchet into their book club, now three members string, and annoy Ratchet by playing some newer music when they'd work at the medbay regardless of Ratchet's complaints. 

Ratchet couldn't imagine a life without these two, even if it wasn't always great times. 

First aid was the worst. First Aid would intentionally disregard any of Ratchet's advice, regardless of the fact Aid knew Ratchet was right. Refusing to sleep in favor of staying awake for 3 days to moderate a Wreckers fan forum was just one instance. Ratchet could still feel the jaw pain from how he'd gnashed his teeth together when Aid had gotten sick and refused to take the full dose of his anti-viral because of some weak excuse that it had made him 'drowsy' when they both knew it was because Aid simply didn't feel like opening his wrist port and putting the data slug into the USB. 

But if Ratchet were to pick the worst trait about First Aid, it would be that Aid always felt the need to overshare his personal drama. Ratchet wasn't sure exactly when he'd become First Aid and Ambulon's relationship councilor, but sometimes it made him absolutely choleric.

Ambulon wasn't far behind. While Ambulon didn't come to work and complain to him how his boyfriend probably had some form of erectile dysfunction- which was something Ratchet now felt morally obligated to corner and question Ambulon about so Aid would stop complaining- Ambulon did all that he could not to interact with the other members of the crew. So long as someone wasn't seeking medical help, Ambulon would go through hoops to avoid interacting with them. It was honestly impressive. Once Ratchet had seen Ambulon ask if someone was a patient and after they'd sad 'no, but-' Ambulon had already turned and walked away, forcing Ratchet to now have to damage control. 

However with their powers combined, they were truly a force to be reckoned with. Like the time he caught them interfacing in one of the berths of their ICU when they'd both thought Ratchet had left for the day. Ratchet was never able to apologize to Pipes enough for the things he'd seen, though arguably the worst of it was that Pipes didn't seem to understand what he was exactly taking witness to, as First Aid had convinced Ambulon to open up his chest plating and poke at his spark with the handle of a scalpel as foreplay. 

While they were the worst pupils he's ever managed to have in his care, they were the only two who had wormed their way under his plating and into his spark. Metaphorically, of course. According to various sources at one of Swerve's bar parties, it had been Ratchet who had loudly asked the others to interface, only to purge on both his pedes and fall on his aft before getting his answer. Ratchet refuses to believe this, regardless of the fact that Red Alert had the footage somewhere in that cave of an office he had. Neither Aid nor Ambulon had brought it up once he'd sobered, figuring that if it had happened, which if absolutely hadn't, that that they were both as mortified as he would have been in that position.

Still, neither of their previous antics could prepare Ratchet for what they had in store for him this time. 

The three had gone to Swerve's on one of their collective off shifts, something they all rarely got to share as Ratchet had been scheduling Aid for more on call after hour shifts than ever before. Still, both medics insisted on treating Ratchet to a round of drinks, so here they were, each with a drink in hand. 

Ratchet hardly noticed how they'd sat at the bar counter, one to each of his sides rather than besides one another. Not giving it much thought he took a sip of his drink, enjoying the collective silence between them.

"So I bet you're wondering why we coaxed you out here." Aid started, playing with the straw on his drink. The elbow bend had a crack in it, making it impossible to get any suction to pull up the straw so that Aid could still drink while wearing his mask. Reaching across Ratchet, Ambulon took Aid's busted straw and traded it with his own. He immediately flicked it somewhere behind him rather than ask Swerve to dispose of or replace Aid's straw.

And Ultra Magnus said romance was dead. 

Least this gesture could assure Ratchet that he was now not being pulled out to play therapist to his two adoptive children.

"I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure."

"Aid wanted to ask you over drinks if you'd consider lightening up on scheduling him for so many on call shifts after hours." Ambulon started, finishing with a big sip from his drink. Coughing as it went down harsher than he'd wanted, Ambulon tried not to immediately choke and derail their conversation.

"No, actually what I wanted was to get you laid, since clearly you haven't gotten any since Pharma and have forgotten that mechs with partners enjoy feeling their partner's warm embrace at least two nights a week." 

It was Ratchets turn to choke, spitting his whole beverage in a spray across the table. First Aid made no movement to Ratchet's display, meanwhile Ambulon had awkwardly tried to pat Ratchet's back. Aid was sure that Ambulon had meant to be comforting, but to any bystander it would look like Ambulon was grimacing directly at Ratchet, arm stiffly and robotically patting more or less the others shoulder.

Before Ratchet could even protest Aid's plan, First Aid had already stood up, reaching across the bar and taking a drink out from a line Swerve had been preparing for another table. 

"So I'm thinking you need someone who's sort of like Pharma to help you get over this dry spell. I'm thinking Getaway. They both have that thing about them, what did you say earlier Ambulon?"

"I said Getaway was a bitch, just like Pharma."

"Yeah, I mean you did say that, but no the other thing."

"Oh, you mean stuck up and desperate?"

"Yeah. That. Exactly that. See, they're two in the same. You'd never know the difference, Ratch. Unless you were only intimate with Pharma because you two look similar."

Ratchet could feel rust spreading through his systems like a wild fire as he coughed helplessly while Aid ran his mouth.

"Aid, I swear-" he hacked hard, not letting it stop him. "-Primus will never put you back together if you go over to get away-"

"I mean, I guess we could just get ahold of Pharma." Ambulon interjected, catching Aid by the wrist to hear his idea out before Aid took this stolen beverage and gifted it to Getaway as a token of Ratchet being DTF. "He still emails me. Told me he's sorry for that whole rust thing back at Delphi."

"Ambulon, he was killing people, do you really think he's sorry?"

"I mean, he might be. I didn't know how to say no, so I just didn't write him back. Now he emails me every week. I never write back, but I guess I could if that meant we'd get our date night back."

Both sets of optics flashed predatory, waiting to hear Ratchet's answer before choosing their own verdict. They were both despicable, the absolute worst, and it made Ratchet proud to finally have someone who could go toe-to-toe with him like this. Even at his own expense.

"Fine." Ratchet coughed, snatching the drink out of Aid's hand. "You each get two of the same nights off a week. No on calls for those days. But that better mean I don't have to listen to either of you moan and groan the next morning about your personal lives." Spinning on his chair, the hand that hadn't been holding a drink jabbed Aid the chest. "You ever tell anyone I want to interface with them and I'll give you have an ice breaker for whirl about neither of you will have hands." Spinning to meet Ambulon, he jabbed the other in the chest. "And you. Email Pharma about me ever again and ill will personally force Ultra Magnus's hand and make you work for Swerve. Am I clear?"

They both nodded, taking their seats back and ordering another round of drinks, now in celebration of having their date nights reinstated.

Ratchet was neither shocked or surprised when the following morning to one of their newly scheduled nights off that Aid had already half-breaking his promise by bitching to Velocity about his personal life. 

While Ratchet hated that he was practically forced into eavesdropping in on the long Aid was telling Velocoty about how he and Ambulon had started dating, Ratchet could help but find he wasn't as angry as he'd thought be. Sure. Aid never shut up when he was in a mood, and that was annoying, but having life in the medbay after such a long war was worth the price of the details about his coworker's sex lives. 

All in all, when push came to shove, things happened for a reason. Even if Ratchet adamantly refused to believe and of Drift's hippy mumbo-jumbo for a second.


End file.
